


A goose, an elk, and a knight

by anecdotalist



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animal Transformation, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:46:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22054282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anecdotalist/pseuds/anecdotalist
Summary: Merlin wakes up to a goose on his bed and, well, his day just gets better from there.
Relationships: Gwaine & Merlin (Merlin), Gwaine/Merlin (Merlin)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 250
Collections: Chill Winter Exchange 2019





	A goose, an elk, and a knight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kj_feybarn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kj_feybarn/gifts).



> Beta'd by phyrry. <3 Any remaining mistakes are my own.

Merlin’s woken up to a number of unexpected and unusual sights over the years but a goose sitting at the end of his bed definitely tops the list.

 _HONK!_ the goose greets him.

Merlin yelps in return and scrambles up the bed, grabbing and brandishing his pillow like he’s going to try to smother the goose.

 _HONK!_ the goose says again and this time, it sounds somehow exasperated.

“Well, I’m _sorry_ if I got just a little bit startled by your appearance,” Merlin finds himself telling the goose indignantly. “How would you like it if you woke up and found a…a…well, a human watching you sleep, huh?”

The goose gives him an unimpressed look. It doesn’t look like it’s going to attack him so Merlin gingerly sets his pillow down behind him and eases out of bed. The goose follows his every move with intelligent eyes.

“I, er, I suppose I should introduce myself then. I’m Merlin.”

The goose honks at him again and hops onto the floor, flapping its wings for balance. Then it waddles towards the opened door and looks back at him imperiously before it starts going down the stairs, one wobbly step at a time.

Merlin scratches at his head in bemusement and then shrugs. “I guess I’ll just follow then.”

“Merlin!” Gaius’ voice calls out when he’s halfway down the stairs. The goose has already reached the bottom and seems to be scouting the room. “Why do you have a goose?”

“Dunno. I thought it was yours.”

“Why would _I_ have a goose?”

Merlin steps into the room and sees Gaius standing in the middle of the room with his arms crossed, watching the goose with one of his brows arched. The goose watches him back.

“How did it even get in here?” Merlin asks.

“It wouldn’t stop honking outside until I opened the door and let it in, and then it went straight up the stairs to your room.”

Merlin scratches his head. “Well, that’s weird.”

“You don’t know anything about this goose?”

The goose turns to look at him and its eyes are familiar, but how could that be possible?

“No, nothing,” Merlin says.

 _HONK!_ the goose counters. It waddles over and delicately takes Merlin’s pant leg between its beak. It tugs on it and then lets go to waddle over to the door, where it stands and looks back at Merlin patiently.

“You want me to follow you?” Merlin asks.

The goose nods.

Merlin looks towards Gaius helplessly. His mentor looks thoughtful. “It appears that this is no ordinary goose, Merlin. You’d best see what it wants. But do be careful,” Gaius cautions as Merlin gamely opens the door for the goose.

“Tell Arthur I’m…sick or something,” Merlin says. He’s already dreading what Arthur will have him do to make up for his absence but there’s no helping it.

“Yes, alright, I’ll take care of it. You just focus on your new friend there,” Gaius says with a wave of his hand.

Merlin nods and leaves. The goose is standing just outside the door, head cocked like it had been listening to their conversation and understanding every word.

 _HONK!_ it says, and it sounds apologetic. Merlin doesn’t know how he can tell what the goose means when it only ever makes the one sound, or if he really is understanding the goose and not just making up meanings to go with the sounds.

“Don’t worry about it,” Merlin tells the goose anyway. “This is more important.”

The goose seems appeased by that and turns to lead the way down the hall. They pass by a few other servants carrying loads of laundry or dishes on a tray and they all yelp and scramble back from the goose, and then edge past them along the wall. Merlin tries to reassure them that the goose is harmless. But then they come across Frederick, an older servant who had given him a hard time the previous week, and the goose gives what Merlin can only describe as a war cry and charges at him. Frederick shouts in alarm, drops the stack of nicely folded sheets in his hands, and nearly trips over himself trying to get away from the goose. He doesn’t seem to even notice Merlin standing there, so preoccupied he is with the goose. When he turns and runs, Merlin almost expects to have to stop the goose from giving chase but it only runs after the other servant for a few steps before circling back to stand protectively in front of Merlin.

How had the goose known that of all the servants they had passed, it had only been Frederick that had given Merlin trouble? Merlin had only complained to Gaius about it. And to Gwaine, actually, since the knight had stopped by after a visit to the pub while Merlin had still been venting. But the goose couldn’t know that; it hadn’t been there. Had it been just a coincidence then? Maybe Frederick had been carrying something or wearing something that had triggered the goose to attack?

They turn down another corridor, this one deserted, which turns out to be a very good thing because Merlin happens to glance over at a mirror as they pass it and freezes when he sees Gwaine’s reflection walking in front of his. “What the— _Gwaine?”_ Merlin whips his head back around to look at the goose, who turns back to him and says, _HONK!_

Merlin blinks at it in bewilderment. “Gwaine, is that really you? How did you turn into a goose?”

 _HONK! HONK!_ Gwaine the goose says. He turns and starts waddling off, at a quicker pace than before.

“Oh, right,” Merlin says. “I suppose you were taking me to where this all happened? But why me?”

 _HONK!_ Gwaine says without looking back at him. 

Merlin can’t help smiling. “So you’ll tell me later then? Alright, but don’t you forget.”

Gwaine honks again. He leads him out of the castle and through the bustling city, honking at people who are in the way. Everyone is so startled to see a goose walking around the market that they jump and Merlin suspects that Gwaine’s amused by it all. He certainly seems to be taking a circuitous route to the city gates. Merlin spends a lot of the trip apologizing. Eventually, they make it into the forest and stop just inside.

“Er,” Merlin says, “are you going to be able to walk through this on your own? Because I don’t think I’ll be able to carry you for long. Are we going far?”

 _HONK!_ Gwaine says and flaps his wings agitatedly. A bright glow suffuses his whole body that makes Merlin squint and shield his eyes. When the light fades, a tall brown elk stands where Gwaine had just been.

Merlin stares, mouth agape. “Gwaine, is that still you?”

Gwaine the elk tosses his head and looks at Merlin with a twinkle in his eyes.

“You look…wow, you’re majestic!”

Gwaine arches his neck proudly and prances in place. Then he stills and gives Merlin a pointed look.

“I mean, not that you don’t always look majestic. And brilliant. And handsome.” Merlin laughs nervously. Gwaine’s antlers are very sharp. “And I certainly don’t have more of a thing for animals than I do humans. I mean, I don’t have a thing for animals _at all_ —”

Gwaine cuts off his rambling by ducking his head—carefully keeping his antlers angled away from Merlin’s face, thankfully—and nipping lightly at the edge of his jaw. 

Merlin laughs at the sensation. “That tickles, you oaf!”

Gwaine huffs and stands back. He looks expectantly between Merlin and his back. 

“You want me to ride on your back?” Merlin asks hesitantly. 

Gwaine dips his head once, managing to look both regal and exasperated. 

“You want me to _ride on your back?”_ Merlin repeats incredulously. “Gwaine, you’re massive! You’re bigger than a horse right now and I’m not even that good of a rider on horseback. I’ll never be able to stay on you.”

Gwaine just stares at him. 

Merlin stares back. He could conjure up some kind of saddle, of course, but there’d be no way to hide that from Gwaine. He sighs and looks around. What could he use to help him even mount? His gaze catches on a tangle of gnarled roots sticking up out of the ground. It’s conveniently located behind Gwaine so Merlin focuses on pushing just a bit of his magic at it, urging the roots to rise up over the ground more. When he’s satisfied that it’s tall enough for him to stand on, he nudges Gwaine to turn around. “Come on, there’s some roots over there that I can use to help me get on your back.”

Gwaine goes where he points easily and stands patiently while Merlin scrambles up onto him. Merlin gets the distinct impression that Gwaine is just humoring him. 

“Okay,” he says once he’s settled. There’s a moment of vertigo when he looks around the forest from this unaccustomed height. He gingerly places his hands on Gwaine’s antlers but then shifts them to Gwaine’s neck. He bites his lip in worry. What’s the proper place for him to put his hands? Gwaine hasn’t given any indication that he’s minded either way. Still…he pats Gwaine’s neck. “Okay, I think I’m ready. Just…go slow. I don’t really have anything to hold onto.”

Gwaine snorts but he does do as Merlin asks and take slow, steady steps. Still, it takes Merlin some time to get used to the rhythm of his strides. They make good time—Gwaine’s long legs eat up the distance quickly and even going at his version of “slow” the forest passes by in a blur. 

Just as Merlin’s about to suggest they stop to forage for some food, Gwaine steps through a line of trees into a grove. The trees enclosing it are tall and their leaves block out the sun’s light but it’s lit up by twinkling golden lights dispersed along the tree trunks and branches. Merlin looks around, entranced. There’s an incredible amount of natural energy in this place, one that he only feels around other magical beings and places. It tugs at the magic in him, like it’s urging him to relax his usual tight hold on his magic and indulge. 

One of the minuscule globes of lights detaches itself from the trees and floats through the air towards them. As it nears, Merlin can make out the features of a girl.

“Emrys!” the girl greets cheerily as she alights on the tip of one of Gwaine’s antlers.

“Hello,” Merlin says, and then belatedly corrects, “I’m Merlin, actually.”

The girl shrugs and smiles indulgently. “Okay.” Then her eyes widen in delight. “ _Merlin!_ You’re Merlin?” She claps her hands together. “Sir Gwaine told us all about you.”

“He did?” Merlin asks, voice strangled. “When?”

“When he was helping us against a group of poachers.”

Merlin blinks. “Oh.” He looks down at Gwaine. “Is that why you were delayed getting back to Camelot?”

“Sir Gwaine was so helpful,” the girl answers instead. “We were grateful that he was there.”

“That’s good,” Merlin says. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

The girl smiles at him. “We are the Vilia, spirits of the forest. Our water cousins were the ones who healed you and sheltered you and Sir Lancelot when there was a tear in the veil between worlds.”

“Oh,” Merlin says, quietly. Lancelot’s sacrifice had happened some time ago but he doesn’t think the ache of losing him will ever fully fade. “Thank you for that.”

“Sir Lancelot was a noble man. It was their pleasure to help him, and you of course.”

Merlin swallows.

“We are glad that you have such noble, loyal friends, Merlin.”

“I am very lucky in that,” he says. “And speaking of friends, Gwaine brought me here, I think, because something’s happened to him that we need help with.”

The Vilia cocks her head at him inquiringly.

Merlin gestures at Gwaine. “Well, he’s a…an elk. And before that, he was a goose.” The Vilia nods like she had expected that, like it’s normal for humans to turn into animals. “Why is that happening?”

At that, the Vilia looks surprised. “That was what we had gifted him with, as thanks for his assistance.”

Merlin gapes at her. A _gift_. He feels dread curling in the pit of his stomach. A gift from a magical being isn’t something that can be returned easily. They’d risk insulting the Vilia and incurring their wrath, which could result in worse consequences. But…”He’s a Knight of Camelot!” Merlin protests, waving his hands helplessly. “How can he do his—his Knighting if he’s an elk? How does he turn back into a human?”

The Vilia blinks at him, nonplussed. “The gift, as are all of Sir Gwaine’s actions, is driven by his heart’s desires.”

“So…all he has to do is want to become human again?” Merlin asks. When the Vilia nods, Merlin pats Gwaine’s neck. “Hear that, Gwaine? Just think about being human again.”

Gwaine snorts at him and paws at the ground. But a bright light does envelope him.

Merlin realizes then that he’s still sitting on Gwaine’s back. “Wait—” he yelps but it’s too late. The solid back he’d been perched on has disappeared and he finds himself dropping suddenly. He lands hard on something covered in metal.

“Ow,” Merlin moans. 

“Oof,” Gwaine grunts.

“Gwaine! You’re back!” Merlin says, relieved to hear the knight’s voice.

“I was never really gone to begin with, Merlin,” Gwaine says with a pained smile. He wraps an arm around Merlin’s waist to steady him and then props them both up into a sitting position with his other hand.

“Well, I’m still glad to hear your voice again.”

“I’m glad to be able to speak again,” Gwaine says. “I was trying to tell you earlier that you could have put a saddle on me. I didn’t mind.”

“Oh, but I didn’t bring one.”

“I know. I meant that you could, you know—” Gwaine waggles his eyebrows.

Merlin frowns, puzzled. “No, I don’t know.”

“Magic one up,” Gwaine says—easily, like he isn’t revealing that he knows Merlin’s deepest, darkest secret which could get him executed if Arthur found out.

Merlin pales. “I don’t—I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He starts to scramble out of Gwaine’s hold in a panic, heart pounding, but Gwaine tightens his grip.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Gwaine says soothingly. “I won’t tell anyone. You know I don’t mind magic. I’ve encountered it a lot on my travels.”

Merlin’s mind races. It’s true. There have been many times when Gwaine’s known even more about magic than Merlin himself; certainly more than anyone else in Camelot. And he’s never seemed to be frightened of it; wary of it when it’s being wielded against him, yes, but…he’s never lumped all magic users together as evil.

The Vilia drifts down towards them, nodding approvingly. “The knight of a warlock as powerful as Emrys should be strong of mind and heart. Sir Gwaine is a good choice to be the strength to your magic.”

Merlin suddenly recalls the words of the troll guarding the bridge to the Fisher King’s tower and feels faint. “Gwaine’s a Knight of Camelot. He’s sworn to serve Arthur, not me.”

“I only swore fealty to Arthur because _you’ve_ sworn fealty to Arthur,” Gwaine corrects. “Not the same type of fealty that Knights swear to, perhaps, but you’ve made an oath to stand at his side, haven’t you?”

“I—I have,” Merlin stammers. “He’s destined to create Albion and I’m supposed to help him.”

“Then I’ll help you,” Gwaine says simply.

“But what if…what if one day you have to choose between me and Arthur?”

Gwaine gives him a pointed look. “That’s easy. I’d choose you, of course.”

Merlin gasps. “Gwaine, that’s treason.”

Gwaine shrugs. “Then I’ll be relying on you to get us safely out of Camelot.” When Merlin gapes at him, he shakes his head. “Merlin, I’m pretty sure that the only time I would have to choose between you both is if he tries to have you killed because of your magic. And I’d kick his arse down the stairs if he dared.”

A snort of laughter escapes him involuntarily at that image and Gwaine grins. “Oh, really? You’d kick him down the stairs? Just like that?”

“Just like that. Without any hesitation. And then you’ll have to open up a portal for us to escape through.”

Merlin huffs, but his heart feels tons lighter already. “It doesn’t work like that, magic. I can’t just open portals all willy nilly.”

Gwaine shrugs. “Oh, well then, I’m sure you’ll think of something else.”

“I could call a dragon to come get us, I suppose,” he says, feeling mischievous.

Gwaine’s jaw drops satisfyingly. “ _No._ Can you really?”

“I can, actually. I’m a Dragonlord. Though if I call Kilgharrah back to Camelot again, he might try to burn the whole place down.”

“Oh, better not then.”

“We’ll think of something else,” Merlin says, and it’s easier to ignore the pang in his heart at the thought that Arthur may very well ignore years of friendship and service in favor of execution or exile now that he knows Gwaine accepts him. “How long have you known?”

“I suspected for awhile. I just didn’t say anything because you didn’t seem to want anyone else to know.”

“The others don’t…I mean, they grew up in Camelot, with Uther’s hatred of magic. Lancelot was the only person who knew, besides Gaius. I try to only use it when I absolutely need to. It’s too dangerous otherwise.”

Gwaine looks saddened by that. “One day,” he promises, “we’ll take a trip outside of Camelot, where magic isn’t forbidden. And we can disguise ourselves as regular commoners and you can do as much magic as you want.”

Merlin’s sorely tempted, but he shakes his head. “It’s too dangerous for me to just use magic whenever I want. That was why my mother sent me to Camelot. I was born with it and it’s always come too easily to me. She wanted me to learn how to control it.”

“But it’s been years now, no? You seem to have pretty good control over it.”

“I…I guess so?”

“Well, here,” Gwaine says. “Let’s stay here for the day and you can do whatever magic you want to do. As a test.” His stomach grumbles then and he huffs in embarrassment. “Maybe start with getting us some food?”

Merlin bites his lip, torn. But Gwaine’s watching him with such hope and openness that he gives in. “It is a nice day for a picnic, I suppose.”

Gwaine beams at him. “That’s what I think, too.” He seems loathe to let go of Merlin and Merlin’s pretty comfortable where he’s at so he just twists around and concentrates on an empty patch of grass. There’s always extra food in cold storage in the castle kitchens, and he has an extra blanket folded up on a shelf in his room that will serve nicely as a picnic blanket for them. One by one, the items materialize in front of them. “That’s amazing,” Gwaine breathes when he’s done. 

When Merlin turns to look at him, he sees that Gwaine’s staring at him, not at the food. He flushes.

“Did you know that your eyes turn the most brilliant shade of gold when you do magic?” Gwaine asks.

Merlin’s flush deepens and he shoves at Gwaine lightly. “It’s just a side effect. The same thing happens to everyone who’s doing magic. It’s nothing special.”

“I beg to differ, sir warlock. _I_ think it’s beautiful.”

A light titter echoes around them and the golden lights of the faeries twinkle. “Look,” Merlin says, “they’re laughing at how silly you’re being.”

Gwaine grins and shakes his head. “I think they’re laughing because _you_ don’t know how beautiful you are. You caught my eye from the moment you and Arthur entered that pub.”

Another rumble, this time from Merlin’s stomach, saves him from having to respond. He thinks he might die from how hard he’s blushing. Gwaine’s never been subtle in his flirting, but that’s part of his charm. “Let’s just eat.” 

They pull apart so they can arrange themselves around the makeshift picnic blanket. “Wait,” Merlin says before they can start actually eating. He looks around until he spots the Vilia from earlier. “That gift you gave to Gwaine…is that permanent?”

“Of course,” the Vilia says. “What good is a gift that fades after just one use?” 

Such an ability might come in handy one day, too. Merlin shares a look with Gwaine and knows that the other man is thinking the same thing—it would be best to keep this one secret too, since they won’t know when they’ll need to use it and they may need that element of surprise.

“Thank you,” Merlin says solemnly. “We’ll remember this always.”

“As we will remember Sir Gwaine’s help always,” the Vilia returns. “Good travels, Merlin. You have a great future ahead of you, and a loyal companion at your side.”

Merlin meets Gwaine’s eyes again, and says, “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> A brief note: I tagged this as canon divergence because Gwaine knows about Merlin's magic and we didn't get that in canon (we were _robbed_ of all the potential Gwaine and Merlin magical hijinks! I'm still bitter).
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3


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